


A New Beginning

by kyjin



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Cleyra, F/M, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-15 21:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyjin/pseuds/kyjin
Summary: In the wake of tragedy, things need to be rebuilt. Homes, cities, lives, and maybe even relationships? Freya returns to the ruins of Cleyra as she considers what comes next for her and her people.Takes place between the ending of the game and the epilogue.





	A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zen_monk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zen_monk/gifts).



“So this is the new city… Not much of a city yet.”

Freya Crescent scanned the scene from her perch on a large outcropping of rocks. The harsh desert winds blew her clothes and hair, but she ignored it, her attention fully on the valley below. This was “New Cleyra,” a settlement built by a few members of the remaining Burmecian and Cleyran survivors who hadn’t scattered elsewhere. There weren’t many, maybe two dozen or so, plus a few wayfaring souls from other races who had grown interested in the attempt to rebuild this sprawling civilization.

Only a year had passed since the destruction of Cleyra, and the scars of battle were still evident on the landscape. The biggest change was of course the lack of the tree that once housed the ancient city. Only scarred bits of stump remained, wind and sand continuing to tear at the exposed wood. Freya wondered idly how long it would be before this too would fade into the desert. Already, some of the sand had come to reclaim the base of the tree, marks of the civilization that had called this home for so long gone from the sight of these new inhabitants.

Despite this, the people of Cleyra had returned, albeit in small numbers. Even without the ancient tree, this was still a holy place to their race. The history of Cleyra remained, at least in the mind of these new inhabitants.

Yet to some, the return to Cleyra was seen as a fool’s errand. At least Burmecia had ruins to work with, while Cleyra had… nothing. It would be better to point their efforts to Burmecia, and leave this place to the desert wastes.

Freya was one of those who shared this view.

“Why am I here….” Freya quietly said to herself as she shook her head, shifting the heavy lance in her hand and looking away from the “city.” “I should be in Burmecia. This… this is pointless.”

Her gaze shifted over to the sun, beating down hard on the settlement below. With only a few scrub trees to break up the landscape now, there was no respite from the heat pounding down from above. Whereas before the shade of the ancient tree would provide life to those inhabitants, now the Cleyran people had to make their own shelters. Colorful tents sprung up at the base of the torn husk of the tree, the fabrics of the tents shifting in the desert winds. These temporary shelters would do for now, but what would happen when a big sandstorm hit? What if bandits came? Did these people really have the capacity to fully protect themselves?

“I would hardly call a rededication for our people’s holy site pointless, Freya.” Sir Fratley perched on a rock besides her, standing a few feet higher than the lady knight. He stared ahead at the scene, not bothering to meet Freya’s expression. For her part, Freya didn’t bother to look over either. She knew Sir Fratley’s mind about the matter. In their discussions since being reunited, the conversation had always focused on the rebuilding of their civilization. Their personal lives, meanwhile, never came up. Especially not their past romantic lisasions that Fratley couldn’t remember.

“It is if there’s nothing to dedicate,” she grumbled, shifting her lance in frustration. “Perhaps if we had a seed, a chance to grow a new tree, that would be something. But now? This is merely a gravesite.”

“But it is still our history. Our people.” Fratley shifted his gaze to Freya, eyeing her coldly. “Isn’t that what you always say? We are knights dedicated to their service?”

“How can you call them ‘our people’ when you don’t remember anything about them?” Freya sighed, shaking her head.

“Freya…”

“I’m sorry, Fratley. It’s just… you still don’t remember anything? Anything at all?”

“I’m afraid not…” He pursed his lip as he looked down at his former lover. Supposed former lover, anyway. He was finally convinced that he and Freya had been part of a relationship some time before, but he couldn’t remember a thing about it. At first he had a hard time imagining how he could have found himself romantically invested in the lady knight, but after getting to know her more over the passing few months, he could at least see how that could have happened.

“Our time is better spent in Burmecia,” Freya continued, flicking her gaze to Fratley. “At least the rebuilding efforts there are taking shape. We have actual buildings to work with, not a hunk of burned roots and an endless desert.”

“Burmecia wasn’t much better to start with,” the male knight reminded her. “The black mages did a number to the buildings. The castle will still takes years to completely rebuild.”

“I suppose…”

“Freya,” Fratley started. He paused, then hopped down off his rock to stand in front of her. She nearly jumped back, surprised at his action.

“Freya,” he continued, meeting her eyes. “Come to the ceremony. Give it a chance.”

“For what reason? A fruitless effort…”

“No.” He reached out and took her hand, surprising Freya. But old habits died hard; even though Freya knew this Fratley was not the same one who used to be her lover, she still visibly relaxed as he held her hand. Memories flooded back of their times before, before everything changed.

“This is a new start. For our people. Perhaps…”

Freya hesitated. She could leave now, be back in Burmecia in a few hours. Perhaps help with more of the reconstruction efforts, run a patrol or two around the borders. She needn’t waste her time here. There was so much more good she could do elsewhere. And if she went back to Burmecia, she wouldn’t have to be around Sir Fratley, dreamily thinking of “what if’s” when he caught her gaze.

But a new start… the temptation was strong. So much had changed in their world since the days of her adventures with Zidane and the others. Her old world was long gone, with only fragments of it remaining. As much as she tried to hold on to the old ways, Cleyra and Burmecia would never be exactly the same. The king was gone, and Puck was nowhere near ready to rule (if he ever would be). Her people were starting to come back from the tragedies. But for Freya? She was still holding on to something that was no longer there. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity. Perhaps something could come of all this. Perhaps…

Fratley met her gaze, still holding her hand. “Please, Lady Freya?”

“Alright,” she said, nodding once and meeting her former lover’s eyes. “Let’s see your new start.”

* * *

 

“Lady Freya, this way please.” The head priest ushered her into a series of tents set up by the base of the former tree housing Cleyra. A trainee priest took her weapons as she entered the site of the new village, as the ceremony was a holy affair that they wished to keep free from any and all violence. Freya initially scoffed at this, but was reassured by the number of patrols taking place outside of the town. If needed, she could retrieve her weapons easily enough, but perhaps today it would be fine.

Sir Fratley was ushered away into another tent when they reached the village, and Freya hadn’t seen him since. She shook her head as she followed the priest; perhaps they needed him for one of the rituals. She had asked if they wanted her for the dance this time, but it appeared they had that covered. Today, Freya was an honored guest.

“Right through here, please.” The priest held back a curtain and led Freya through. Her eyes widened as he walked into the tented area. The back wall was left open, revealing the ruins of Cleyra behind. In front was of that was the harp she remembered from the original city. Looking more closely at it, the instrument was clearly a recreation, with new carvings in its base depicting the original city. The jewel, however, was clear as day: the same one stolen by Beatrix a year ago. Freya silently thanked Dagger for making sure that treasure was returned to her people. Tapestries hung along the edges of the tent, some clearly old ones rescued from Cleyra and Burmecia, others recreations that the Cleyrans must have been working on for months.  

Several priests stood near the front, as well as priestesses in traditional robes. Freya smiled as she saw two of the dancers she had helped rescue during the attack. They were quietly directing the younger dancers, the new trainees. Several dozen chairs were set up facing the stage, many already filled. Many were Burmecians and Cleyrans, but Freya recognized several representatives from Lindblum and Alexandria. A few were clearly travelers who simply came to Cleyra to see the ruins of the once magnificent city.

“You’ll be seated right here,” the priest said with a smile, indicating a seat of honor in the front row.

“Thank you,” Freya said, taking a seat, tucking her tail behind her. Her eyes scanned the others seated near her, but their attention was all focused on the front as the head priest took his place at the center of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Cleyrans, Burmecians, and our honored guests.” He bowed to the group, making sure his sleeves were out of the way. “I welcome you here to the dedication ceremony of New Cleyra.”

Polite clapping filled the room, and Freya joined in. A good start for now, but her apprehension remained. What were they dedicating? Sure, they had a few remnants of the old Cleyra, but it was nothing compared to the civilization that came before. Nothing could possibly compare.

“As many of you know, the city of Cleyra was founded five hundred year ago. Our ancestors, members of the city of Burmecia, fled to this desert, carrying with them a mystical crystal. During a period of civil war in the following years, our ancestors were able to create a sandstorm to protect this land.”

Freya nodded quietly to herself. After her adventures with Zidane and the others, she knew the origins were a bit more complicated than that, but there was no reason to interrupt the priest. That story was not hers to tell. Not right now, anyway.

“While we used the sandstorm for protection, it was merely a hundred years ago when we sought to cut off ourselves from the rest of the world completely.” He bowed his head sadly at that memory. “I regret that decision of our forebears. For if we had not, perhaps the great tragedy that befell our people might not have occured. If we had opened ourselves up to the world, perhaps we would have seen the coming horror to our land.  We might have been able to work together with our brothers and sisters in Burmecia to save our lands, our culture, and our people.”

Freya bit her lip as she listened. If Cleyra had opened her borders? It was foolish to dream of “what ifs,” and yet…

“Now, my wish is not to allow us to wallow in sorrow as I mention these dark moments in our history. But rather, I wish to have it serve as a lesson.” The priest smiled as he lifted his hands and looked around the world. “Today, we celebrate the future of our people. Of the return of Burmecians and Cleyrans together. Of our past, and of our future.” His smile brightened as he looked out.

“Today, we enter a new chapter in our history. Let us walk into the light of a new age together!”

Clapping filled the room, and Freya couldn’t help but smile a bit herself. Perhaps Fratley was right after all. Maybe something could be made of all this.

The priest exited the stage, allowing the dancers take their place. Freya tapped along with her foot as they began the traditional dance that had once called down the protective sand storm of the city. Whereas before this dance only occured to strengthen the spell, today it was performed simply for the joy of their shared lineage. A new twist on an old tradition.

In fact, the whole event followed a similar feel. Freya watched as a mix of both old and new occured in the program. Speeches and dances and songs, some that she remembered from her childhood and during her travels between Cleyra and Burmecia, others brand new, but with a hint of tradition. Burmecians and Cleyrans celebrated together, and even some of the construction workers from Lindblum and Alexandria came up to share a song they had written for the occasion.

Throughout the entire performance, however, Freya’s eyes wandered the room, searching. Where had Sir Fratley disappeared to? Especially after he had convinced her to attend at all.

It was near the end of the program when she finally spotted her former lover.

Sir Fratley walked onto the stage, cleaned up, but still in his knights garb. He positioned himself in the center of the stage, facing the audience. After taking a moment to settle himself, he looked over to one of the dancers, who had now settled herself behind the harp, and nodded at her. She nodded back, and began to strum an eerie tune.

Freya’s ear flicked as she looked at Fratley. No… there was no way… this couldn’t be…

After a few bars, Fratley opened his mouth and began to sing.

Tears stung Freya’s eyes as she listened, her mind traveling back to a day many years ago, when Freya had recently become a knight of Burmecia. She and Fratley were stationed in town, when they came across an old library, and took a break to peruse the shelves. They had found an old book of songs, ones that had not been sung in Burmecia for generations. Freya herself was not very interested in music, but the lyrics to this one had intrigued her. It was the tale of a mighty lady knight, a poor girl from Burmecia who trained in secret, eventually becoming a hero that saved the kingdom from a dastardly dragon which had been terrorizing her people.

“What an interesting tale…” Freya mused as she read the lyrics. Unbeknownst to her, Fratley had come up beside her to read over her shoulder.

“This could be you, Freya.”

“What!” Freya blushed, pushing the book away. “Don’t be preposterous, Sir Fratley. There’s no way.”

“Oh no, I see potential in you.” He smiled shyly and pulled the book towards him. “Let me see… Ah yes, the sheet music is still here.” He hummed a few bars to himself, then began to sing.

Freya couldn’t help but stare as Fratley sang, the joy in his voice as he sang of the fearsome female knight who saved Burmecia. It was in that moment that Freya began to fall for him.

She had never told anyone about the song, and she never heard anyone sing it besides Fratley. And yet here, now, was Sir Fratley, singing the same long-forgotten song.

A song for _them._

Tears fell freely down Freya’s face as Fratley finished the song. She heard a few murmurs of scholars who recognized the tale, although not the song itself. Only Freya remembered.

And Fratley. Fratley _remembered_ . Somehow. Amazingly. How?   
  
The song ended, and Fratley stepped back to take a bow. Freya was the first to her feet clapping with the rest of the audience. As Fratley raised his head from the bow, he met her eyes, holding them there for a long moment.

Did he know what it meant? Or was it merely a coincidence? Freya had no way to know. Perhaps he found the old book again during the reconstruction of Burmecia, or there was some other priest who had found it and asked Fratley to sing it. The knight’s abilities with music were well known, after all, and he was an honored member of their community. Even if his memories had vanished, his talent with music certainly remained.

The priest came out then, and Freya settled back down into her seat, along with the rest of the audience, her eyes darting back to Fratley as he took his place with the other performers, as the priest thanked everyone and asked everyone to give one final bow. Fratley was one of the first to disappear out of the tent as the priest ended everything, and Freya quickly followed as soon as it was socially acceptable.

She found Fratley standing at the edge of the stump of the tree that once housed Cleyra, looking out at it. Freya took a breath, nervously, then stepped up beside him.

“How…” she asked quietly. “How did you know that song?”

Fratley was silent for a long moment. “...I don’t know.”

“What?” Freya looked over at him, sadness tinging her voice. “What do you mean?”

“I… I have a vague memory,” Fratley said quietly, turning to the lady knight. “I’m not sure when or where, but… someone was talking about this story, and this song... “ He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry… It’s all a blur really.”

“Oh…” Freya chewed her lip. Of course he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anything at all.

“But… I knew it was important.”

Freya stopped and stared at him. “Important?”

Fratley nodded, quietly. “An important moment… with someone special to me.” He looked over at her, and smiled softly. A smile that was very reminiscent of a time long past.

“Sir Fratley… you…” Freya stared, a small tinge of happiness on her face. “You knew…”

“I think… I think it was with you. Was I mistaken?”

Freya shook her head, tears in her eyes. “No… no… it was with me. Many years ago. We found that song together, and…”

“And I sang it for you. Didn’t I?”  
  
Freya can’t hold back the tears now as she nods. “Y-yes. You did, Sir Fratley. You did.”

Fratley smiled as he stepped forward and embraced Freya. “I know I am not the Fratley you remembered, but Freya… Will you give me a chance? Please?”

Freya buried her head in Fratley’s shoulder as she let the sadness that had filled her for so long finally leave her. Today was never about Cleyra at all. It was about them. It was about giving Fratley a chance.

A new stage, a new beginning…

“Freya?”

The lady knight wiped her eyes and stepped back, looking up at Sir Fratley.

“We have to start over sometime, don’t we?”

* * *

 

A month later, Freya stood with Fratley in Burmecia in front of the fountain plaza. While reconstruction continued in the town, this area was thus far neglected. In time, it too would be fixed.

Freya had her lance and a few supplies ready nearby, and she would soon be on her way to Alexandria for a reunion celebration. At least, a partial reunion. Zidane had not returned after the battle in Memoria. But Dagger had decided it was time to move on, and a play from Tantalus seemed to be the proper way to celebrate their adventures, and Zidane’s life.

“Freya,” Fratley said, his gaze turning to hers. “You’re leaving soon, are you not?”

“Yes. I can hardly wait to see everyone.” It was true. She had letters from her friends over the past few months, but between Cleyra and Burmecia reconstruction projects, she had no time to see them. Especially now that…

“Alexandria… I went there many years ago.” Fratley smiles slightly, the scant bit of a lost memory on the tip of his tongue. Freya held her breath. He had remembered the song. Perhaps something more?

“How long will it take to rebuild Burmecia?” He changed the subject, the memory gone as he looked towards the lady knight.

“I don’t care,” Freya blurted out. “As long as I am with you.” She stopped, a blush forming on her cheeks. This wasn’t the same Fratley as the one she had known long ago. And yet… the melody of the song he sang ran through mind as she met his eyes, her heart beating in her chest.

No, she would not hesitate. This may not be her Fratley from her past. But this Fratley was with her now. This Fratley stood with her, helped her see the beauty in a world plagued with destruction. With him… everything would be okay.

Fratley stared agape at Freya, then a smile forms on his face as he reached out and took her hands. Hesitation fled from his voice as he spoke. “....I love you, Freya.”

_Yet he still doesn’t remember our past._ Freya shook that thought from her head. That didn’t matter now. If Cleyra showed her anything, it’s that things could be rebuilt. Their relationship might not be the same, but it would be something new. It would be _theirs._

Freya smiled as she leaned her head against her lover. “I just want to cherish our time right now.”

Fratley smiled and pulled Freya close in his arms, the rain of Burmecia the only sound to be heard.

Their lives had changed. Their people had changed. They too, would change. But they would be there together. No matter what happened. And for now, that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for giving me an excuse to replay my favorite video game. It was fun to explore Freya's character a bit post game, and try to fill in some of the gaps. Happy Yuletide, and I hope you enjoy!


End file.
